Hallow
by Simply Look Around
Summary: Based on seeing a lot of Harry is Loki's child fanfictions, I decided to make a what if Loki was Harry's child fic? Will have a brotherly relationship with Loki and Thor. Pairings yet to be decided and very far in the future. Comments and suggestions welcome and wanted. And, yes, I do not own any of Harry Potter or Thor. It is much more fun to play with someone else's characters.
1. Prologue

Created: Monday, 28 November, 2016

I am a big fan of changing one event: one event that shapes how the author created the universe. This time, I was reading the Thor and Harry Potter FanFictions with Harry Potter being Loki's child. Then, I thought, what if Loki was Harry's child?

-/-

Hallow has a variable plethora of meanings.

Verb: Honor as holy; make holy; consecrate; greatly revere, honor.

Noun: A saint or holy person.

As a child, he had often confused the term hallow with hollow. Two vastly different meanings, as one who is hollow is without real significance or value. He believed that hollow suited him better, at the time.

Time, however, is fluid. Despite the wishes of muggles and the time turners of wizards, there are set paths. Some argue that each path diverts and creates a different universe. For every choice you make, it actually will happen by another you in another world at the same time. And for every choice that is made, another choice appears, and another split occurs.

See? It is all fluid.

He had long since flowed with time, moving through universes and choices. He was, despite everything, something that was far more powerful than time. Ageless. Truly and utterly ageless.

He spoke in a tongue long forgotten in all the worlds, only understood by the few who he gifted it to or who were exposed to his presence to embrace the essence of what he was.

Perhaps, it is time to explain what exactly that is.

Long ago, in the year 1980, he was born to a smiling Lily Potter and a crying James Potter, who had the unfortunate privilege of having his hand broken while his wife was in labor. His sightless eyes had met that of his parents and for a brief moment in time, he was unconditionally loved.

He was named Harry.

But, under that name, he did not have a fortunate 'destiny.' A professor at the time, Headmaster Dumbledore, had decided to follow a prophecy at the same that a genocidal wizard decided the same. Those two decisions together made him into a sacrificial lamb.

He learns later in several different universes, that the particular destiny he was born into could have never have occurred.

But, he digresses.

At the hunt for the pieces of the blackened soul of one called Voldemort, he encountered the objects that later would bring him the to where he was now, or then depending on the current flow of time.

The first object was a wand, unbeatable.

The second was a ring, to bring back the afterimage of those you love.

The third was a cloak of invisibility, to hide from the final adventure – death.

Together, they made the Deathly Hallows; gifted by death to three brothers long ago for one who gathered them all would become the Master of Death. So long ago was the tale told that by the time he had encountered them, they were thought to be a children's tale.

It took him no longer than a year to discover what he was. The humanity that tethered him to Earth released him.

Honestly? He did not really discover what he was – is – it was more of a slap to the face waking up in time.

He found that in every universe and reality that the Deathly Hallows existed, he had become their master.

It was not what the tale told.

There is no real 'death' or 'master'. There was Hallow.

He is named Hallow.

He is 'holy person' by definition, but the definition came from his name. It was added much later and was given the meaning. He held the power of life in his fingertips and the judgment of time in his palm. While he took life, he gave it. For every death, something grew. For every life, something died.

He was not Death's Master. He was balance and judgment. He was impartial and disconnected. He was invested and fair.

After many millennia, however, an urge had struck him as he watched the birth of yet another child, and this one he recognized. It was a child of a Harry where the Deathly Hallows did not exist.

And, for the first time in many millennia, he felt humanity. He felt longing.

Beauty was not something that concerned him. It was the soul. So, when he looked forward, he found himself with a child. As he made the decision, it occurred as it was meant to. It lead him to King Laufey of the Frost Giants.

Who was created was Loki.

-/-

Just an idle storyline. I really enjoyed this thought though, so I decided to create something towards it. This is the only chapter I plan to have in Harry/Hallow's POV. The rest of it is centered around Loki. I plan to have Loki and Thor actually want to be brothers though, but you will just have to wait and see.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1… 30 November 2016

From the reviews, all I can think is that it is one person with multiple accounts or this story really is 'interesting.' Please keep letting me know your thoughts. And, also, keep in mind this is unedited. I don't have the time or the patience to really look back over it after I write it. I have to work for my food, and I write while it comes to me.

I am much more a fan of scenes of key childhood moments for the first part of this, as I eventually want to actually get to the more in depth movie scenes. The chapters will get longer then. Perhaps six or seven more of these scenes through childhood. Don't worry, I have a plan for this.

This I think would be around the time Thor and Loki are five in Migardian years.

-/-

The kingdom of Asgard is simplified in one word: rich.

The palace is bathed in the gold and jewels of those that were once enemies of the realm, their riches brought back as treasures of war. On one such balcony of the palace stood a regal woman in a flowing gown and a small child dressed in rich clothes of the finest silk. They both look quietly over the warm colors of the kingdom, the sparkling waters and healthy forests just in their sightlines.

"Mother?" pipes the child, a small hand fingering her skirt idly.

"Yes, my heart," she answers, looking down at him briefly and running a hand over his ebony hair. He beams at her briefly, leaning into the touch.

"Am I not a child of your blood?" he asks, her hand stilling upon his head. She turns her full attention towards the child, turning and sinking to his level, skirts fanning around her as she pulls him to sit in front her.

"Whatever makes you question that, my son?" she inquires, holding his own pale fingers within her grasp.

"I am not similar to you or father or Thor. Maybe in actions, but not in hair or eyes or nose," he lists quite plainly, opening his mouth as if to say more and closing it, thinking better.

For a moment, she stays silent, her warm blue eyes examining both the child and her commitment to her husband. "Better to ask forgiveness than permission." She speaks softly to herself. "You are not a child of my blood, but you are a child of my heart. Equal to Thor."

He nods thoughtfully, biting his lower lip just for a moment.

"Thank you for confirming."

She stays silent, reaching up to caress his cheek lightly before her expression turns knowing. "What really made you inquire, Loki?"

His lips slip into a small quirk of a smile, just barely a lift of the corner of mouth. Someday soon, this would be a smile often associated with his name. Slightly knowing and just a wisp of his thoughts.

He holds up his hand to the railing of the balcony, his long fingers brushing across the stone and leaving a trail of frost in its wake, his skin a slight blue.

"Thor thought to pull a trick on me and made my bath ice water. My skin turned blue."

Her hearts skips a beat as he pulls his fingers back, placing his hand back in hers. The hand is, to her surprise, warm.

"That was naughty."

Loki smiles up at her. "I had turned his tunics pink first."

A brief grin flashes across her face, and she inhales slowly before exhaling, looking off into the distance as she gathers her thoughts. Loki sits patiently in front of her, quite content to sit in silence and think.

"You are a Frost Giant. We took you as our own when we found you alone in a drift of snow," she states, making him start in slight surprise, leaf green eyes wide. She looks back at him again. "But, only one of your sires is a giant. I know not what else you are."

"Not Aesir?" he asks, looking at his cream hands. She smiles.

"That I would know," she admits. "But, no. I do not believe you are Aesir…. It matters not. You are my child, and you are a prince of Asgard." For another moment, she is silent. "Perhaps, we will keep this conversation to ourselves."

"I won't tell father it has come past my ears," he promises, far to astute for one so young.

Her attention turns as they hear footsteps on the polished stone floors before a Lady's Maid appears, dropping into a curtsy immediately.

"My Lady Frigga," greets the Lady's Maid. Frigga stands, guiding Loki with a gentle hand to leave them.

Quietly, the child moves through the halls to reach the family chambers, opening the double doors to slip into the common area shared between Thor's and his rooms. Thor is in the rooms now, lying on the cushions on the floor center with a small knife and wood block, witling absently. At Loki's entrance, the golden hair boy places the objects on a side table, sitting up.

"Well," demands the older boy. Loki rolls his eyes, plopping down on top of his brother's stomach. Thor huffs, air leaving him, and he tries to remove the dead weight. Loki merely relaxes, and grins to himself as Thor attempts to push him off before finally relaxing and accepting his new role as a cushion.

"Mother confirmed. I am adopted, part Jotun," Loki states silkily. Thor hums, letting out another huff of breathe as Loki moves and jabs a bony elbow into his ribs. Blue eyes glare at the younger boy.

"I know not how you are skin and bones. You eat your weight in food and yet look as if the wind will blow you away," chides Thor, sulking into the cushions. They lie silently for several moments.

"Mother says she knows not what the other half is."

Thor blinks slowly before shaking his head. "It matters little. You are my brother. That is your most important role."

"You have an ego the size of-," starts Loki, getting a finger shoved into his side. He hisses. "But, I do suppose you are correct… for now."

"For now?" exclaims Thor, affronted. "I am correct for always."

Loki's laughter is on the edge of a breathless cackle as Thor shoves him off the cushions to the floor.

-/-

Okay. Like I said. I just sit down and start typing, so ignore the mistakes. I have a plan for Loki knowing he was adopted early, and for how that affects the future events. The next chapter has more of Loki interacting with his father.

Let me your thoughts and suggestions.


	3. Chapter 2

December 5, 2016

I thank everyone for your kind reviews. I appreciate it. Also, to the reviewer who left the statement that it takes concentration to follow, thank you. That was what I was hoping for, something just as fluid as time and a little difficult to follow. I write most of the time how I believe someone to think, and that is usually not easy to follow as it is often disjointed.

Unfortunately, I do not believe that the chapters will get much longer, as this does not pay the bills. Nor will it be edited or prewritten. I don't save any of these to my computer. They go from word to the website and promptly closed out of.

Anyways, here is a glimpse into Loki with his father. I am placing Loki about a year older from the last chapter, six Migardian years.

-/-

Loki is long since used to visiting the infirmary in the castle.

His mother spent much of her time there, helping with pregnancies and childbirth. All of Asgard is welcome to seek medical attention from the magic within the walls.

Loki, however, spent only brief trips in the past. Mainly, his visits were due to the injuries he and Thor often suffered from fighting with one another. This time, though, he had awoken with a fever, eyes blurry and throat parched. Thor had gone for their mother, and Loki had been brought for the first time to recover overnight in the infirmary of the castle.

It had been several days now, and he found himself bored. While not well enough to venture back into his normal routine of roughhousing and lessons with Thor, he is coherent enough to realize that lying in bed watching the healers work magic was not very entertaining when he could not ask questions. Sadly, it is even more boring when he has slept most of the day and is awake when no one else is during the night.

Still, he stays in his bed as he promised his mother.

Across the room catches his attention, where an elderly woman lie in bed with her hands folded across her torso.

A charcoal mist was slowly starting to form, taking shape until the figure of a man stood beside her bed, a hooded cloak flowing around him like water. The mist, however, stays around him, slowly forming the shape of a tall man with the fair features prominent to Aesir. The man sits on the bedside, his hand overlapped with the mist of the mirage of the figure overlapping him.

The elderly woman opens her eyes, blinking slowly as she catches sight of the figure sitting beside her and the weight on her hands. Her eyes water, crinkling at the edges as a smile slowly touches upon her lips. She reaches upwards, cupping the cheek of the mist mirage.

Loki could not hear what was being said, but both the mist and the woman were talking in low voices, and for some odd reason, his mind was not telling him to call for help. He felt unexplainably warm, and perhaps more importantly in his mind, he was no longer bored. His eyes widen as the cloaked figure turns in his direction, staring at him for several moments before the figure reaches down to his hand where a jeweled ring sat. As he rubs it, turning it around, the mist separates from him as he stands, and the cloaked figure begins to move towards Loki as the mirage fades.

"What are you doing?"

The question is not the first Loki had wanted to ask, but his inherent curiosity that thrived upon knowledge and chaos and good fun slipped before his thoughts.

 _"I am a guide, of a sorts."_

The voice is melodic, almost like a song in a language that Loki did not know, but understands. As he speaks, the figure moves to sit perched on the edge of Loki's own bed, turning his head to look back at the woman and her mirage.

 _"I am a judge and balance. Life and death. But, at the moment, what you truly wish to know, is who I am. I am referred to as Hallow."_

Loki's brows furrow in concentration. "Do you like to be called that?"

A small, raspy laugh sounds from the figure still looking at the woman.

 _"I prefer it to many of the alternatives. Do you like to be called Loki?"_

The child thinks about it for several moments. "I believe so. Mother and Thor usually call me 'my heart' or 'brother.' Sometimes, I prefer those."

The figure hums, watching as the woman seems to become a mirage herself, a smile on her face as she slowly fades away. Loki inhales sharply, taking in the figure more seriously now.

"Death!" he whispers. Hallow cups his hands in front of him as the mist slowly floats back to him and forms a small charcoal ball of mist that looked like a flame with a face above his palms. The figure turns to him then, holding his hands out to show the mist creature to him.

 _"That is by one name I am called,"_ the figure answers. Loki reaches out hesitantly, figures brushing over the small flame that makes a cooing noise and leans up into his touch affectionately. Loki pulls his fingers back.

"It's cold!" exclaims Loki, looking with interest at the small flame, which had now separate arms and was trying to reach back for Loki. The child obliges, stroking a finger on top it. Loki peers up beneath dark lashes, almost seeming to remember his thoughts. "But, why are you talking to me, if you are death?"

 _"Death is not just one thing or person. It is many things. It is the balance that for one that enters the realms, one must be lost. It is knowing who is ready to move on and who needs guidance,"_ Hallow pauses, his own fingers stroking over the black mist. _"But, for now, the intricateness of what I do matters little. Perhaps, if I meet you again in the future, I will explain more."_

Loki pauses, as his mother often gave him that line. When he was older or more mature or after he accomplished this or that. But, he understood the reasoning. Instead, he turns his attention to the knowledge available to him now. "What is this?"

Hallow seems pleased with the question, as he straightens slightly. _"Do you like it? I made them many years ago, for when I needed to be in several places at once."_

"What does it do?"

 _"It is a channel to the dead, first and foremost. Those who live or begin to move on cannot see me, but it helps them to have something to guide them. It makes their souls at peace,"_ Loki begins to notice the sentences are short and choppy, thoughts almost disjointed, but relating. _"The mist that you see forever surrounding me forms to show the shape that the dying wish. For those who welcome death, it greets them like an old friend. For those who don't… well, they see exactly what they believe death to look like."_ Hallow pauses for a moment staring at the still body of the woman briefly. _"She welcomed death, and as such, the mist shifted to show her deceased husband. The afterimage of him appearing to guide her towards him."_

"Is there any exceptions? I mean, I can see you. I am alive," starts Loki, only to get cut off by a pale hand raising. His eyes catch sight of that ring again.

 _"Children, who have not fully understood what death means to be afraid or cautious, see me as you see me now. However, child, you are an exception. But, that is for a later time."_

Loki almost wants to protest, but this is a being who was life and death. Instead, he turns back to the mist cradled in his hands, now passed over. "So, what else does it do, since it is 'first and foremost' a channel to the dead?"

 _"Ah, you listen,"_ praises Hallow, voice melodic and prideful. Loki involuntarily beams at the praise. _"Sometimes, one separates from me. It cannot find their way back. You see, they have only one fear. People."_

"What? Why? They channel the dead. Certainly they encounter people all the time?"

 _"Anything that has enough of a mind to think past that of an animal frightens them. They channel the dead constantly and are thus exposed to how people think. How both wonderful and selfish people can be, whether Aesir, Migardian, Jotun, or Centaur,"_ begins Hallow, running a finger over the ball of mist again.

"Oh… what is it called?"

 _"Many years from now, the Migardians call them boggarts. They are creatures who like to hide away from people if they accidently stray from me, so they hide in closets and cupboards and under beds. And, if someone should accidently discover them before I can find them, they attempt to scare them away by channeling what they fear."_

"That is really smart," praises Loki, making the little ball of mist preen. Its self-preservation is truly noteworthy. "Do you create creatures often? What are they?"

 _"Only sometimes,"_ Hallow confirms, getting an eager look from the child. _"There is one called a demiguise, whom I created with the ability to turn invisibility and have a brief foresight of the future. It is white and apelike, and when it gives its hair freely turns in a cloak such as this, that camouflages the wearer to invisibility themselves."_

"So, if you took off the cloak, people could see you?" asks the child, concluding what he already knows.

 _"No, not quite,"_ answers the figure, amused. _"I create beings and gift them with a talent a possess. Some beings that I create wish to gift me something in return… Like this, for example."_

Hallow reaches beneath his hood and pulls a feather from beneath, letting it rest in Loki's fingertips as Hallow draws the boggart back to himself.

 _"This is from a horse that can only been seen by those who have seen death."_

Hallow then pulls a long twig from his sleeve, placing it gently on Loki's palms.

 _"This was gifted by a canine, that when it crosses your path foretells death in the future."_

The figure pauses, taking the feather and stick away from the child and reaching within his robe again to pull out a bracelet that was braided together with strands of thread that seemed to glow silver.

 _"This is from a horse with a single horn upon its head, whose blood freely given could give you life and forcibly taken curse you. It is a symbol of beauty and good fortune."_

Hallow slips the band onto the child's wrist. Loki stares at it, admiring the strands. His intelligent eyes look upwards.

"So, does that mean seeing you foretells death, and that those who have seen death can only see you, and that blood freely given gifts and forcibly taken curses?"

The words are fast and crammed together in order to get them out in one breathe, and Hallow cannot help the fond, single laugh that escapes him.

 _"Yes, they are each gifted with something of my own,"_ confirms Hallow. _"You can only see me if you are close to, dead, or have come back from the dead. My blood does gift those I choose, and curses those who take it selfishly. And, by what you have seen, I believe do foretell the arrival of death, just as I can foretell the arrival of birth."_

"And, since the boggarts can shapeshift?" continues Loki, excitedly.

Instead of a verbal answer, another Loki is sitting in front of him, a carbon copy.

"Wow! Can I learn to do that?" murmurs the child.

The duplicate vanishes to the cloaked figure again.

 _"Perhaps."_

With that mysterious statement, the figure disappears once again in a fine black mist.

Loki, unfortunately, is left sitting on his bed with far too many questions and no way to answer them.

He falls back to a lying position, staring at the ceiling as the quiet boredom overcomes him again.

-/-

I kind of wanted Hallow to have a calming presence, like the phrase death welcomes you like an old friend. I also thought it would be fun to have an outline for how Loki will learn shapeshifting and how he will gain his silvertongue.

Let me know your thoughts, and thanks in advance for your comments. I appreciate it if you let me know any questions or suggestions.


End file.
